Sex and the Stranger 2: A Mischief Erotica Collection. Justine Elyot
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said. The veil was very thin. It moved with my breath.
Total Eclipse of the Heart
It was a really big bed.
Underneath my veil, I could still see the outline of Simon’s shape. He had slipped down again, and now, finally, he was parting my vulva lips with his fingers. All fingers now, all at once.
He spread the outer lips apart. As he caressed them, he contemplated them, outside, inside, the whole of my vulva displayed under his hands.
I tried not to breathe too deeply. Difficult when every nerve in you wants to jump around and dance.
Simon moved on to explore my inner lips. He touched them with great care; he teased them out and up. They stood up for him fiercely. Pulsing hot.
I wish, I wish … Ah …
Finally, finally, Simon found his way to the stem of my clitoris.
Those fingers that I had thought too delicate for rough roadie work now pressed down hard, in exactly the right spot the very first time. Oh, man, this man knew what he was doing.
Instant response from my vagina. Simon pushed hard, patrolling the fine and excruciating line between lust and pain. Even as he increased the tempo, and my clitoris throbbed uncontrollably with the rhythm of his ever tightening circles around her, Simon kept me moist and safe.
I was glad I was bound hand and feet. I didn’t have to hold still, making Simon lose his grip. My hips couldn’t help it: they moved with him. But my legs stayed fixed, and my arms kept me spread out. The tension inside me wanted to burst out.
Simon swiftly changed his approach and started to move his thumb up and down the very wet shaft of my clitoris. I didn’t sigh any more, I moaned. Up, down, sideways sweep. Full circle. Circle again. Then widdershins. Then he pressed hard. So hard. So hard!
I screamed.
Simon nodded in approval.
The instrument rang true in the upper register.
Then he reduced the tempo again to a slow spiral, moving away from the clitoris to my throbbing inner lips, and back.
I wanted to say something but all that came out was a high, haunting moan. Like the ghosts from the glass harmonica.
‘I love how you look,’ Simon said in the voice of a true expert. ‘Very unique.’
‘Really?’ I managed to squeeze out. Not sure if this was a compliment.
Simon, lovely stranger, you’ve woken up so many new sensations, you’ve made me discover a new source of delights, you’ve brought me up the stairs and back again, and now, just now we were practically knocking on heaven’s door – please don’t wake up my female sense of insecurity. Not now! Of all times!
But Simon, so tuned into every slightest physical response, was impervious to my fear.
‘With those luscious deep-red outer lips and those delicate, almost dainty inner lips,’ he continued, as always completely focused on the task at hand. ‘And your clitoris – at first so small and round, compact, sleeping curled in upon itself, and then, when it is aroused, how the colour changes from pink to red to almost blue, and how it grows, tall and firm, almost like a miniature penis …
‘So beautiful, Senta. You are so beautiful. I’ve never seen anyone quite like you.’
A big wet tear rolled down my face. I couldn’t wipe it away, so it had to run.
Simon stopped talking.
Instead he used his mouth to cover my purple, glistening clitoris in a big deep kiss.
Like the kiss he gave my mouth before, it was the kiss of a lifelong devotee. His tongue licked all around the stem, then upwards with a quick flick. More! More!
He lingered, savouring the taste of my supremely erect clitoris – then obligingly intensified the pressure.
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